


live show

by hereforlou



Series: the au where they're still famous musicians and harry's spoiled and they have two dogs [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, barely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24421402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereforlou/pseuds/hereforlou
Summary: Keeping his eyes on himself, Harry leans his weight against one elbow and spreads his right hand over where his heart is pounding. His fingers look long, his palm huge as he slides it down to his belly as slowly as he can. He practised in front of the mirror earlier, but it’s not the same as seeing the slightly grainy picture on the screen, knowing that Louis is watching him, too.(Or, the one where they video chat.)
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Series: the au where they're still famous musicians and harry's spoiled and they have two dogs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1675543
Comments: 21
Kudos: 157
Collections: WANKFEST 2020





	live show

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't know I was going to write this until last night and it's super silly but I hope you guys enjoy it :) Thank you so much to Nic for looking at it at the very last minute!!
> 
> Here's a [Tumblr](https://hereforlou.tumblr.com/post/619375282880757760/live-show-complete-34k-keeping-his-eyes-on) post.
> 
> And here it is in [Italian](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24856582) by [lxvetoms](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lxvetoms/pseuds/lxvetoms)

Harry is more than a little giddy as he finishes setting up his laptop. He’s made sure it’s fully charged, he’s tested the lighting until it was perfect (dim and moody but not enough that it would be hard to see what he’s doing), and he’s left his small collection of props at arm’s length. He sits in the middle of the bed, laptop in front of him, and can’t help but check just one more time before he makes the call. He opens Photo Booth and makes some last minute angle adjustments once he’s on screen. There’s a warm tint to his skin, his hair looks bouncy and glossy, and his cheeks already look flushed just from the anticipation. 

He looks good, and he smiles to himself before he schools his features into something a bit less goofy and a bit more sultry. He’s never managed to _purposely_ look sultry before, but he knows his face can sort of fall into it when he’s not paying attention, so he tries anyway. 

“We can talk tomorrow if you’re too sleepy,” is the first thing Louis says to him when the call connects, and Harry sees himself pout on the screen. 

“Tomorrow’s not Valentine’s,” he argues (though technically, it’s already the 15th where Harry is in London) and hears Louis huff out a light laugh. “Turn your camera on.”

“I don’t look half as good as you, let me warn you,” Louis says, making Harry preen, and then there he is, his own laptop clearly resting on his chest and his tired face taking up most of the screen. His skin is tinted blue, and there are dark circles under his eyes. 

“Bad day?” Harry asks, leaning forward. He knows all about Louis’ day already, they’ve been texting back and forth for most of it, but still. Louis’ only been away for less than a week. The time difference isn’t even that bad — five hours between London and New York and Harry’s mostly been resting, so he doesn’t mind three a.m calls. But If Louis is only now available to talk, something must have come up between now and the last time he texted. 

“Nothing seeing your pretty face can’t fix.” Louis smiles, tired eyes crinkling at the corners, and Harry tries to make his own smile look provocative, or at least something other than stupidly besotted. He’s been called a lot of things over the years — in magazines, on TV, in person by the most daring interviewers — but Louis calling him pretty still makes him want to giggle into his pillow. “Where’re my puppies?”

“I locked them down in the kitchen,” Harry explains. “I don’t want an audience. Or, well,” he grins, “a bigger audience.” 

Louis rolls his eyes, still smiling, before he stifles a yawn with the back of his hand. 

“Wouldn’t want to scar them any further,” he says.

“They’re far from scarred.” 

Their dogs have walked in on them enough times Harry sometimes suspects they do it on purpose. Nina is tall enough to reach the door handles, and Sid is so quiet moving over the carpeted floors that he always manages to sneak up on them unnoticed. That is, until he starts begging to be let up on the bed. The first time, he barked at Harry until he got off the bed and away from Louis, and then would growl every time Harry tried to come close again. 

Nina is a lot more laid back. She usually just wants to join them. 

Harry’s not taking any chances tonight. He left them downstairs and promised them extra treats if they behave. They looked at him as if they understood. 

Wanting to get them back on track, Harry leans away so that there’s more of him in view instead of just his face, resting back onto his hands. He sees Louis’ eyes roaming across the screen. 

“You’re wearing more clothes than I was expecting,” he says.

“Am I?” Harry asks. He dips his chin, looks down at his own naked lap, and then looks up at Louis, who is maybe starting to seem a bit less tired. 

“Well, that’s my jumper you got on. I can’t see much else.”

“Maybe there’s not much else to see,” Harry replies, proud of himself for his quick wit when he’s so fucking eager to start he’s surprised he can make any sort of conversation.

“Doubt that,” Louis says quietly, and the look he gives Harry has him scrabbling to pull the jumper off over his head without a thought. 

He left it on to add some flair to what he’s been planning, but this works, too. He’s never been that graceful trying to strip, anyway. When he glances at himself on the screen again, his hair doesn’t look as put together anymore, and his cheeks have gone from pink to red, but Louis definitely looks more alert. 

“Now, this is more like what I had in mind,” he says. “What’re you planning to do now?”

“Not just me,” Harry says. His cock is throbbing between his legs. He’s been hard since before he sat down, just thinking about doing this. Now that Louis is finally watching him, he can hardly wait to finally wrap a hand around himself. “Together.”

“But you already look ready to go, love.”

Harry flicks his eyes from Louis’ face to the smaller rectangle on the screen, where he can see his chest and the very tip of his cock peeking from the lower edge. He did a really good job on the lighting, if he does say so himself. He rolls his hips up, making his cock bob fully into view for a second, before plopping back onto the mattress with a bounce. 

He looks _really_ good, actually. 

Keeping his eyes on himself, Harry leans his weight against one elbow and spreads his right hand over where his heart is pounding. His fingers look long, his palm huge as he slides it down to his belly as slowly as he can. He practised in front of the mirror earlier, but it’s not the same as seeing the slightly grainy picture on the screen, knowing that Louis is watching him, too. 

Louis.

Harry’s eyes snap back to the other half of the screen, where Louis is staring intently at him, a vague smile on his face. 

“Remembered I’m here?”

“I’m— I haven’t forgotten you’re here,” Harry tries to defend himself, but he can’t help but to look away to where he’s still on screen, hand halfway down to his crotch. 

“That’s alright,” Louis says as something rustles on his side. His camera jolts as he makes himself more comfortable and only the top half of his face remains in frame until he fixes the angle of his computer down. “Continue, please.”

Harry laughs. He wants to argue that his whole _plan_ was to have _both_ of them exposed to the other, just as it would have been if they were spending Valentine’s Day in the same place. Then he thinks that, just because Harry can’t see it, doesn’t mean Louis’ hand is not already inside the covers and between his legs, and he shuts up. 

He likes that thought.

He looks back at himself. He’s sat up a bit, so that his face is now out of frame. A blush is starting to creep down his chest, downy hair nearly invisible in the soft light. Harry pushes the lid of his laptop a few centimeters down and hears Louis let out a happy breath. 

“That’s nice,” Louis mutters, sounding sleepy but attentive. Harry bites his lip into his mouth, shifting so that he can stretch his legs on either side on his computer, leaving it right between his knees. 

The camera catches from his thighs up to just above his belly button, hard cock resting on his belly and balls covering his taint and anything else Louis might want to get a peek of. 

Harry is no stranger to this kind of angle. He’s taken his fair share of naughty pictures, though mostly polaroids that he and Louis have had to destroy after having a bit of fun with them, they can never be too careful. There’s barely any part of his own body he’s not familiar with, but he knows Louis is even more acquainted with the view between his thighs than Harry could ever be, and he wonders what Louis feels about watching but not touching, for once. 

“How’s that?” he asks. 

“I mean, I wish I could see your face, too, but I’m not going to complain too much.”

Harry spreads his legs wider, reaching down to hold his balls up and out of the way. He has to look away from the screen — his neck starting to ache — but he can still hear Louis’ breathing slowing. 

“No, I’m definitely not complaining.”

Satisfied, Harry lets himself fall against the pillows behind him. He closes his eyes, head tilted up to the ceiling, and uses his free hand to grab at his cock, balls still cradled in the other one. He’s so hard he has to keep himself from hissing as he comes in contact with the hot flesh, but he can’t stop his thighs from jerking. 

He’s pretty sure he’s still in frame or Louis would have said something, so he tries to imagine what he looks like. He strokes himself, slow and steady, lifting the shaft up so that Louis can see properly. He uses his fingers to spread the wetness on the tip as much as he can, dragging his foreskin down and hoping Louis is paying close attention. Every drag of his hand makes his groin feel a little tighter, and he squeezes his other hand, suddenly wishing Louis would say something. 

“Have you got anything to make you wet, baby?” Louis’ voice rings out, raspy and soft but still startling. 

Nodding even though he knows Louis can’t see the top half of his body, Harry lets go of his bollocks and grapples for the bottle of lube he left on the mattress earlier — along with a condom he doesn’t think he’ll use anymore, and a new plug he was going to surprise Louis with but probably won’t get to try this time. He can feel he won’t last long enough. 

Still stroking himself, he finds the half-empty bottle and thumbs it open. He knows Louis likes a bit of a mess, so he dribbles a generous amount down the head of his cock, coating his fingers and feeling the cold, slimy liquid drip down his taint and between his cheeks. He squirms at the feeling, knees going up so he can plant his feet on the bed and shift his hips more easily. He must jostle his laptop because Louis _tsks,_ making Harry stop short. 

“You need to be held down?” he asks, a voice floating in the room, his warmth missing. 

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles. He lets go of the bottle somewhere on the bed and switches hands. He takes his cock with the dry one and lets the messy one slide down, behind his balls and into the clench of his cheeks. 

“That’s it,” Louis breathes. “Gonna finger yourself for me?”

Harry’s groan tapers off into a whimper when he finds his hole, and he tightens the grip on his cock to keep himself off the edge. 

It wouldn’t be the first time he fingered himself in front of Louis, but they’ve never been so far away from each other while Harry did it. They’ve wanked together over the phone plenty, but this is different. It’s hard to forget that Louis is watching him through a screen. Trying to imagine him sitting in the armchair across the room doesn’t work. Even with his eyes closed, Louis’ voice sounds slightly distorted coming from the laptop’s speakers, and Harry can’t keep the image of his tired, blue-tinged face out of his head, heavy-lidded eyes always on him. 

“You look so big from here, darling,” Louis says. “Big and messy, aren’t you?”

There’s lube making his bum stick to the bed. Harry rubs his thumb along the underside of his cock and listens to Louis’ voice, trying to wiggle closer to the camera. He must get too close, because Louis laughs and says, “Back up a little, love. Don’t wanna miss anything.”

Harry scoots back as best he can, sticking to the sheets and kicking his laptop at least twice, before Louis tells him he’s good.

“There, you’re perfect,” he whispers and Harry’s cock spasms in his grip. He loves it when Louis’ voice goes soft like that, like he didn’t mean to talk out loud but couldn’t help but praise Harry. It makes him go impossibly harder, strokes picking up speed while the fingers of his other hand prod around his hole. 

He might not even need to do much more to come, but then Louis is speaking again.

“Come on, let me see it,” he’s saying. “Do it for me, babe.”

Harry can only imagine the way he looks, slipping two fingers into himself, holding his cock out of the way so tightly he can feel it _pulse_ and skin so tacky with lube he can hear his fingers moving in and out of his body just as loudly as he can hear himself starting to pant.

There’s sweat gathering under his arms, muscles straining as he tries to build up a rhythm. He’d much rather Louis be the one fucking his fingers into him, holding his hips down with the other hand while Harry focused on his cock alone. He keeps messing up, pulls uneven as he gets his hands confused, his left one never the most skilled. He grows frustrated as pressure builds up only to ebb when he gets distracted, his teeth gritted together and his legs restless. He wants to sit up and finish himself off properly, but he knows he must look good right now, and this is supposed to be as much for Louis as it is for him. 

He presses his shoulders to the bed and arches his back with a pop, fingers sliding into his hole up to the third knuckle. Louis hums.

“Gorgeous, Harry. You always look so beautiful.”

Harry smiles to himself and concentrates on one hand for now, a third finger starting to nudge his way in along with the others. 

“You can stop now, baby. Jerk yourself off, okay? Wanna see you come all over yourself.”

His fingers make a slurping sound slipping out, and then Harry’s got both his hands on his cock, one holding the base loosely while he tugs himself off with the other, hips jumping and chest rumbling with every groan and every moan that he lets out. 

He thinks he can hear Louis moving, too, and he’s not sure when this date turned into him following all of Louis’ directions so quickly, but Harry’s filled with the urge to look at him all of a sudden. He sits up as best he can, stomach clenching because he keeps both hands around himself, and groans when he realises the lid of the laptop is angled too low for him to see properly. He pushes it open with a gross, slimy hand and then perches it on the mattress and leans his weight on it, his other hand flying on his dick. 

He’s so focused on his own image on the screen (torso shiny with sweat, cock head red and dripping) that it takes him a few seconds to notice Louis’ camera is off.

“H-hey! I can’t see you!” 

“I can see _you,_ though,” comes Louis’ voice. The rectangle where his face used to be is black with LOUIS T. stamped in the middle in white font. “And I promise you look much, much better than me right now, sweetheart.” 

Harry’s about to protest — whine and whine and hold off until Louis relents and turns the camera back on — but it only takes him a second thinking about his current position to give up. Knowing that Louis is watching (and thinking he looks good) is more than enough for Harry. He doesn’t even care if Louis is getting off with him. If he is, wonderful, Harry can’t wait to hear it. If he isn’t, it just makes it hotter that he’s sitting back and watching Harry, telling him what to do while getting nothing out of it. He’s not sure why, but the idea makes his belly swoop. 

“At least talk to me,” Harry can’t help but to beg, watching himself on the screen and pushing his hips up. 

“I’ve been talking to you.”

“Keep—keep doing it.”

“What d’you want me to say?” Louis asks, a smile in his voice. He sounds a little breathless as well, unless Harry’s imagining it. 

“Tell me how I look.”

He hears Louis laugh, but before Harry can keep begging, he starts talking.

“You know how good you look, love,” he says. “You can’t stop staring at yourself.”

“That’s—”

“Gonna deny it?” No, Harry’s not going to deny it. He’s looking at himself, it’s not like he can look at Louis, anyway. “Tilt the laptop up, I want to see your face.”

Again, Harry uses a sticky hand to push the laptop lid up, and then whips it back towards himself. His face is bright red, cheeks and nose flushed, hair all puffed up. His eyes are glazed over, pupils blown wide, and it should be weird looking at his own face like this, but again, knowing that this is what Louis is seeing makes it feel different and good and like he needs to come right now. 

“Fuck, so pretty,” Louis says. “Your mouth, darling. You have no idea what you look like.”

He does. His mouth is open and his lips are glistening and bitten-red. He looks wanton. 

“You’d let me do anything I wanted to that mouth if I were there, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” Harry babbles, because he would, he would but he’d rather not think about what they could be doing if Louis were here. It would have been a very different Valentine’s Day, with presents exchanged in person instead of mailed to each other, and with touching and kissing and all sorts of things done to Harry’s mouth and other body parts. 

“Gonna come soon, love? Let me see you, come on.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, right hand speeding up until he feels like his arm is about to cramp up, and then Louis voice’s is in his ears again, “Come on, baby, show me, come on,” and Harry tightens his grip around his balls, his other hand twisting around the head of his cock, and he comes, thick ropes of come striping his knuckles and his belly and his laptop, a little bit. 

It takes him a few seconds to open his eyes again, after. He can hear Louis still breathing hard, and his own heart is still beating against his chest like it’s about to jump out. He feels loose and sweaty and ready to sleep for the next ten to fifteen hours straight, but first, he needs to see.

“Lou,” he says, “turn on your camera. Please.”

Louis does, and his face still takes up most of the screen, his laptop still on his chest. He looks a little more rumpled than before, though. His hair is matted down on his forehead, and not even the unflattering blue light can hide the blush staining his cheeks. So he did join Harry, much to Harry’s already quite big ego. 

“Hello,” Harry says. He grabs the laptop and drags it with him when he lies back on the bed before wiping his hands on his thighs and on the sheets. 

“Hey.” Louis smiles back. “Thought you didn’t want a big audience.”

Harry frowns, confused. He sees himself doing it on screen, and then looks closer and nearly jumps out of his skin when he sees two pairs of eyes over his shouder. 

“Fucking _hell,”_ he snaps, sitting up with a jerk. His laptop bounces off his stomach and onto the mattress, but he’s too busy glaring at the two dogs who somehow managed to sneak out of the kitchen and into his room sometime in the last half an hour without him noticing. Sid is panting and trying to jump into bed with him. Nina is standing on the floor and staring into Harry's soul. “I swear they bloody enjoy it,” he says towards Louis. 

But Louis doesn’t reply, and a moment later, through the laptop’s tiny speakers, he starts snoring.


End file.
